The List today covers the basics of hurricane preparedness.
You are about to have a hurricane blow through, greater Atlantic seaboard. I would tell you about how this is already the most important hurricane ever, and certainly the most terrifying, but that a) would be lies, and b) this is all you will hear from the news anyway, because everything that happens in the greater Northeast is THE BIGGEST EVER. California will just be over on the other side of the country shrugging off whole earthquakes and wildfires while you bail out your rec room and post the pictures on Instagram with the caption "NOW I UNDERSTAND KATRINA.*"
*You don't, and shush. Your water isn't even on fire.
As a former resident of Florida and disaster aficionado, I am here to help you with important hurricane survival and coping tips.
1. YOU ARE NOT A SURVIVALIST. Don't even try to be. You see these wretched souls at Lowe's and Target before every hurricane, snatching up fifteen-dollar lanterns, hoarding gasoline, and moving with the frantic determination of someone who read The Road and thought, "Dude, I gotta be ready for that," and then totally forgot to get ready for whatever "that" is until eight hours before landfall.
That takes longer than three hours and $400 of hasty, ill-planned purchases. You disrespect the hardworking lunatic survivalists of this nation by thinking you can turn your home into The Hilltop overnight, and need to remember one thing and one thing only. You are an American, and we practice survival as a people the American way: by driving toward a reasonably priced hotel, and spending several days eating out of vending machines. (PRO-TIP: If you see Zingers, hoard them not because they are nutritious, but because they are awesome and I'm pretty sure they'll catch on fire if you apply flame to them.)
2. EAT ALL YOUR ICE CREAM. You don't have many excuses to eat all the ice cream in your freezer, so take it. It might melt! Precious calories you'll need for the post-hurricane world of roving chainsaw gangs and alligators roaming the flooded streets. If you are wrong, you just ate a tub of ice cream on your day off, most likely while watching television. There is no losing side to this strategy.
3. DON'T JUMP ON THIS TRAMPOLINE. You will receive no superpowers for doing so. (Via)
4. BOOZE. If you are not evacuating, skip the rush for bread and milk and just hit the liquor store. Chances are that unless you are in areas severely affected by the storm, you will have the equivalent of a free indoors vacation day. I like the Dark 'n Stormy as an all-day beverage because it involves tasty ginger beer and bad thematic punnery, but there is no wrong way to drink the right thing in a private hurricane party. The bar, so to speak, is open.
5. DO BUY A CHAINSAW. You need one. Shhh, you. You want time for me to explain why I need a chainsaw? The answer is simple: THERE'S NO TIME TO EXPLAIN, DAMMIT. (P.S. You will never use this chainsaw ever. However, in rebuttal to this, we say "CHAINSAW.")
6. PANTS OFF. No one's watching, and pants are horrible. If you must, strictly pajama pants, and only the comfiest possible.
7. NAP. Disrespect Mother Nature's most fearsome efforts by sleeping through as much of the day as possible.
8. TIP, DAMMIT. There are places that stay open during hurricanes, and if you order delivery from one of these places you should tip the everloving crap out of the soggy bastards cursed with the task of delivering mu shu pork to your doorstep in gale force winds. I'm not implying that Chinese takeout places don't close during hurricanes. I'm telling you that they do not close for hurricanes or any other natural disaster.
9. CHILL. If your power and cable lines are buried, you can do what I did for Hurricane Charley in 2004 in Florida; put your feet up, relax, and watch football tonight. It's still a disaster, but in comparison to psychopaths like earthquakes and tornadoes, the hurricane is the obese Victorian duellist of natural disasters. It writes a polite note telling you when and where it may arrive. It offers an exit, and then either drunkenly stumbles through your door, or perhaps changes directions entirely and forgets where it put its gun in the first place. It might eat your house, but then again, so would some drunken Victorian gentlemen.
10. MOTHER NATURE DOES NOT WANT YOU TO WATCH MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL. That's fine. You probably have heard too much Jon Gruden calling football in your life. Question? How much Jon Gruden is too much Gruden? Answer: anything past these 23 seconds of life-changing video. THIS HURRICANE is doing you a favor, man.